Snapshots of Mortality
by startraveller776
Summary: Sarah forgets the Labyrinth and its Keeper, and embraces what dreams the Aboveground has to offer her, unaware that someone is still watching over her.


**A/N:** Here's another upload of an old fic. As usual, I can't recall who beta'd this for me, but if it was you, thank you! This was my first real fic for the fandom, and I was sure it was going to be my "opus"—my last fic, too. Oh, me. So naive back then.

* * *

**1986**

* * *

It had all been a dream, she was sure of it—a frightening dream within a dream. The dangers of the Labyrinth had seemed so real—her fear of losing Toby forever, the strange way she felt as she danced with the mythical Goblin King, the way her heart pounded when she faced the villain alone as the seconds of the clock ticked away. She had won and woke in her bedroom, Toby safely asleep in his crib as if nothing had happened. And she'd thought nothing _had_happened—until her friends had appeared in the mirror.

But then, that was a dream too. When she woke in the morning, her room was unchanged; there was no evidence of the party she remembered. Her mirror reflected only her image back to her, no matter how many times she whispered that she needed her friends.

It had all been a dream.

Sarah came downstairs for breakfast, feeling like everything had shifted, but she couldn't say how. Karen stood over the stove, stirring scrambled eggs and Robert leaned against the counter next to his wife. Karen murmured something that Sarah couldn't hear, and her father laughed. The affection on his face was so open that Sarah felt like she was intruding on a private moment. Had she ever seen her father so happy? Had she ever bothered to look?

Sarah blushed when she realized that she had never truly cared about his wants or needs. She had always been focused on how his decisions affected her, and she was quick to let him know when she was miserable. But what about when he was miserable? Tears stung Sarah's eyes. If she really loved her father, wouldn't she want him to move on with his life, to find love, to have a complete family?

Her eyes turned to Karen, and she replayed all the arguments that they'd had over the last two years. Sarah had labeled the woman as a wicked stepmother long before she had walked down the aisle with Robert, but was she the villain? Looking back, Sarah could see clearly that Karen had tried so hard to get to know her new daughter, to love her, and Sarah had thrown it all in her face.

Was Sarah's life really so unfair?

"Sar! Sar! Sar!" Toby squealed from the highchair, his enthusiastic voice breaking into Sarah's musings. He looked at her with his arms outstretched.

She wiped away her tears and flashed her baby brother a genuine smile. Why had she ever felt burdened by him? "Hey there, Tobes," she said as she stepped into the kitchen. "Did you sleep well?" He gave her a happy gurgle, and she laughed. "I love you too, buddy."

"Sarah?"

She looked up to see her father and Karen staring back at her with widened eyes. Her heart clenched. Just how awful of an older sister had she been that her parents would be so stunned by her behavior now? She rubbed her eyes, trying to keep from bursting into tears again.

"Are you okay, Sarah?" Karen asked, her concern evident on her face.

Sarah opened her mouth to say that she was fine, but she choked on a sob instead. Both of her parents were at her side in an instant. Knowing that they would offer her support and love, despite how she had treated them, only made Sarah cry harder.

Her father pulled her into a tight embrace. "What's wrong, honey?" he asked. "What can we do?"

Sarah wept against his warm, protective chest before she could answer him. "I…I'm so sorry, Dad," she stammered through her tears. "And I'm sorry, Karen."

"What happened?" Sarah could hear the worry in her father's deep voice.

"Nothing. Everything." Her body shook with another round of sobs. "I've been…I'm a horrible daughter. I've taken you all for granted and acted like a spoiled brat. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Her father stroked her hair and shushed her. "It's okay, honey. It's going to be okay."

"Can you forgive me?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

He gave her a small smile. "Of course, honey."

Sarah turned to Karen who reached toward her but stopped herself. Sarah almost wept again over her stepmother's obvious desire to comfort her. How had Sarah missed this? She felt nervous before she spoke, afraid that the damage she had done to Karen would be irreversible. "I never gave you a chance," she said, looking away. "Can you…is it too late to start over? To try to be a real family?"

Her questions were met with silence, and after a moment Sarah gathered her courage to look at her stepmother. Instead of the anger she expected, Sarah found Karen gazing down at her with red-rimmed eyes and wet cheeks. She stepped forward and embraced both of them. That was answer enough for Sarah.

"Up! Up! Up!" Toby exclaimed and they all laughed.

Later that night, Sarah took a box to her room. She cleared off her desk, her shelves, and took the pictures off her walls and mirrors. Everything that she had once thought was more important than the three other people in the house went into the box. When she came to the little red leather-bound book, she caressed the cover with reverence before placing it with the other items, unaware that in a few short years she would forget her dreams, if not the lessons.

She didn't notice the white barn owl watching her from the window.

* * *

**1992**

* * *

The music in the club was a little too loud for Sarah's taste, but it was her twenty-first birthday and Spring Break. Even though she had chosen to remain close to home during the famous party week, she was going to go all out tonight. If there was hell to pay tomorrow, so be it.

She pushed her way through the dancing throng to the bar. It was time for drink refills. The hip bartender said something that Sarah couldn't quite hear over the 2 Unlimited song blaring from the speakers.

"What?" she hollered over the din.

"What can I get for you?" came the bartender's barely audible reply.

Sarah squeezed in closer to the bar and yelled her order. She swayed to the music while she waited.

"You're Sarah Williams, right?"

Sarah turned to find the source of the masculine voice. She blinked when she realized that it was Travis Winters, the guy she'd been ogling in her art classes for the last three years. He had never looked at her before, let alone given her the time of the day. He was so beautiful with his exotic coloring—dark shoulder-length hair, pale green eyes, and olive skin—and he was always surrounded by gorgeous women. Sarah hadn't even tried to approach him.

He cocked his head to the side, and Sarah realized that she was gaping at him. _Smooth, Sarah, real smooth._ She flashed him a smile. "Yep, that's me. I think we've had some classes together." She tried to sound nonchalant, but she didn't think she was pulling it off.

He grinned at her and edged closer. "Yeah, I think you're right." He held out his hand to her. "I'm Travis. Travis Winters."

Sarah shook his hand, noticing that his fingers were long and soft as she did. She tried to ignore the way her heart fluttered.

"So what brings you to this fine establishment tonight?" he asked, his arm making a sweeping motion.

"Well, you know," she answered, "the usual: Spring Break and my twenty-first birthday." She was proud of how cool she sounded despite her brain whispering, _Oh my god, he's totally talking to me!_

Travis raised his brows. "Your twenty-first birthday? Well, that is cause to celebrate." He held up his drink. "Happy birthday, Sarah Williams."

The way he said her name made her knees wobble a little. "Thank you." She blushed. The bartender hollered at her, and she turned to grab the drinks, sure that Travis would wander off to greener pastures.

"Do you mind if I joined you and your friends?"

Sarah jumped at the sound of Travis's voice so near her. "No…no, of course not," she replied a little too quickly. Her mind was stuck in an eternal loop of _oh my god, oh my god, oh my god_. "Aren't you here with…people, though?" She almost said "women."

Travis laughed and glanced at the dance floor. "I think they ditched me." He leaned forward. "I guess hanging out with a brooding artist isn't all that and a bag of chips."

Sarah chuckled with him, but couldn't believe that anyone would want to ditch him. And brooding wasn't a word she'd use to describe him. Handsome, intelligent, talented, charismatic, sure, but not brooding.

She led him to where her girlfriends were waiting, and introduced him. They spent the next couple of hours chatting and dancing (_Dancing! Oh my god he's dancing with me!_). Travis was everything Sarah imagined he would be and more. She wasn't sure if her pleasant buzz was because of the alcohol or him, and she didn't care either way. This night was shaping up to top her "best birthdays ever" list.

When Travis went to get them another round of drinks, Erika nudged Sarah with a "girl, you're gonna get lucky tonight" smile. Sarah gave her a "do you really think so?" look. Travis returned before the two could continue their silent communication.

He passed the others their drinks then held out a long-stemmed glass toward Sarah. "For the birthday girl," he said. "I hope you don't mind, but I ordered you something special."

Sarah flushed, and stood. "Thank you," she said as she stepped forward to take the drink from him. Something struck her shins, and she fell forward, knocking the glass into him and spilling her drink down his shirt.

"Oh, no! I'm sorry!" Sarah was mortified. So much for getting lucky tonight.

Travis gave her a wry grin. "Don't sweat it. I never really liked this shirt anyway." He looked down at the empty glass and then back at her. "Let me get you another one."

"No, you don't have to." Sarah tried to dab his shirt with a cocktail napkin.

He stepped back and gave her a flourishing bow. "But I insist, m'lady!"

Sarah chuckled and shook her head. "Well, if you insist."

Travis turned and made it two steps before he tripped and fell flat on his face. Sarah rushed to his side with a yell. When he turned, she threw her hands to her mouth to stifle scream. Her glass had broken  
and he had a deep gash across his cheek. He touched his face and winced when he saw the blood on his fingers.

"Oh, no!" Sarah exclaimed. "Let me get you to the hospital!"

Before he could answer, she was roughly shoved aside by a couple of guys she vaguely recognized from school.

"Holy shit, Travis!" one of them yelled. "What the hell happened?" They helped him up and dragged him off, leaving Sarah staring after them.

"I'm sure he'll be okay," Erika said at her side.

Sarah turned around and for a second she thought she saw a painfully beautiful man with wild, silver-blond hair standing in the center of the dance floor, smirking at her. She blinked and he was gone.

"I need to go home," Sarah muttered, her stomach churning in an unpleasant way.

A month later she turned on the news and saw Travis Winters being led into the police station in handcuffs. The reporter explained that he was being charged with multiple counts of sexual assault, rape, and possession of a controlled substance—namely GHB.

Sarah ran to the bathroom and threw up when she realized that she had almost been one of his victims.  
As she leaned against the toilet, she found herself grateful for the freak accident that kept her from taking the drink he offered her.

* * *

**1999**

* * *

_I'm not going to cry. I'm not going to cry._

Sarah sat in her car, gripping the steering wheel so hard that her knuckles turned white. She was having a bad day. No, scratch that. She was having a bad year. She was parked in the empty lot outside of her former employer's building, a box of her stuff sitting in the passenger seat next to her, and the damn car wouldn't start.

"Come on!" She banged her hands against the dashboard. "Come on, I just want to go home!" She turned the key and nothing happened. Letting out a frustrated scream, she slumped back in her seat. Of course it wouldn't start. That was just the icing on her personal hell-cake.

After college, Sarah applied for and was accepted into a prestigious art school. It had been a tough two years, but well worth it. Her art had improved so much that, before graduation, she had been offered a job with one of the renowned character design studios in Hollywood. They had been especially impressed with her portfolio of "Underground" characters: goblins, dwarves, pixies and the like.

Sarah had loved her job, until the small company was bought out by a larger studio. The new management cared more about quantity rather than quality, and she had felt stifled in an environment that no longer welcomed rampant creativity. She made do, working just as hard as before, but over the last year, it was as if life was being drained from her. A week ago, the new bosses announced that the branch was being shut down. Just like that, Sarah went from financially stable to starving artist.

And it didn't help that her love life had become a series of failed relationships. All of her friends from college were marrying off and having babies, and Sarah couldn't manage to keep a boyfriend longer than six months. It was her fault, of course, for being attracted to bad boys. Why couldn't she like the nice guys, the kind who would dote on her, shower her with flowers, compliments and love—the kind who wouldn't get bored and move on to the next shiny new toy, or the kind who wouldn't cheat on her? She had tried, oh how she had _tried_, but nice guys were so, well, boring, and she easily ran them over with her feisty personality. Deep down Sarah knew what she wanted was impossible: a guy who was mischievous and seductive, who would challenge her, meet her will for will, but would be loyal and faithful.

_There's no such thing, Sarah._

She wiped her eyes and grabbed her purse. At least she had her cell phone (until she couldn't afford the monthly bill anymore), and good friends. Someone would come pick her up. When she dialed a number, she got a "no service" message. What? She looked down at her phone and saw there were no bars next to the antenna symbol.

"Of course," she muttered with a sardonic laugh. Murphy's Law was working full-force right now.

There was a tap on her window, and she jumped. She turned to see a handsome, blond-haired man waving at her. He made the "roll-down your window" gesture, and Sarah hesitated. After the Travis incident, she was leery of guys she didn't know well, and even more so of complete strangers.

She opened the window a crack, gripping the pepper spray in her purse. "Yes?"

His smile was disarming, and Sarah was immediately suspicious. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm hopelessly lost. I'm trying to find the Paramount lot. Can you help me?" He had the barest hint of an accent. British, she thought.

"You're on the wrong side of Hollywood." She gave a vague wave toward Paramount Studios.

"Yes, I've figured that out already." His smile turned into a smirk. "What I need are directions."

Sarah started to rattle off street names and turns, and he held up his hands to stop her.

He laughed. "I'm not from around here. Everything that came out of your mouth sounded like gibberish to me." He leaned closer to the window. "If I offered my undying gratitude, would you be willing to show me the way? I'd follow you in my car."

Sarah considered it for a minute. That was safe enough, wasn't it? There was only one problem. "I would," she said, frowning, "but I'm having some car trouble."

He quirked a brow. "Pop the hood. In my former life I was a burly mechanic." She narrowed her eyes and he laughed again. "Okay, not really, but I do know a little about cars."

Sarah pulled the hood release and watched him disappear. After a few minutes, he called out, "Try it now!"

Sarah turned the key and the engine started right up. A grin spread across her lips. At least something was working now.

The blond-haired man slammed the hood and stepped up to her window again. "You had some loose spark plugs. You should probably have them replaced."

Sarah gave him a genuine smile. "Thank you."

"So you'll take me to Paramount?"

"Sure."

His smile lit up his face. "I'm David Jones, by the way."

"Sarah Williams."

Twenty minutes later she pulled into Starbucks near the studio entrance. Trying to get onto the Paramount lot when she had no business there was like trying to get into the secure area of the Pentagon. David pulled up beside her and got out of his car. She rolled down her window a fraction when he stepped to her door.

He glanced down at his watch. "Listen, my meeting isn't for another hour and a half, let me buy you a cup of coffee."

"I—"

"Please," he said. "I don't like to be in anyone's debt."

She chuckled. "I think you fixing my car makes us equal."

He shook his head. "No, that was my good Samaritan deed for the day." He pressed his palms together in a pleading gesture. "Please, Sarah. You wouldn't want me to go through life with this hanging over my head, would you?"

Her mouth twitched into a grin, in spite of her lingering mistrust.

"This is perfectly public venue, and I'm sure you have sufficient anti-creep measures in your purse to keep you safe." Damn, but he had a nice smile.

"Alright." Sarah opened her door, still gripping the pepper spray just in case.

In the hour they spent sipping mochas and chatting, Sarah learned that David was a writer who made his home in New York. One of his novels had been optioned, and he was meeting with the screenwriters to help them with the script. He had grown up in London, came to the States for college and never left.

Sarah found herself charmed by his dry wit and the way his blue eyes twinkled, as if there was a little bit of a mischievousness lurking deep inside. She shared more about herself than she had on any other first date. David demanded to see her portfolio when she told him her profession, and properly _oohed_ and _awed_ over her work. Their conversation felt so natural, like they were always meant to be friends— maybe something more.

David left the coffee shop with her phone number, and Sarah walked out with a happy smile on her face. For the first time in she didn't know how many months, she felt like everything was going to work out. She heard a rustle in the trees near the parking lot, and looked up in time to see a flurry of white wings as a bird flew away.

For some reason, she thought it was a good omen.

* * *

**2005**

* * *

Sarah sat on the exam table, self-consciously holding the back of her gown closed. Why were exam rooms always so cold? She felt disconnected, as if she were outside of herself, watching the entire scene play out between her and her husband and Doctor Schwartz.

The doctor was speaking, and it took a moment for her to comprehend his words. "Your endometriosis," he said the word with a sad expression, "is not responding to hormone therapy."

"So what's the next step here?" David asked. Sarah turned to him and saw the disappointment in his face. Why didn't she feel disappointed too? Why didn't she feel anything?

"Well, there's surgery," Doctor Schwartz answered. "Unfortunately, there are too many lesions for a cystectomy or a laparoscopy. " He sighed. "We're looking at a partial hysterectomy at the very least."

The words sunk in, but Sarah still couldn't manage any kind of response. She knew she should feel something when a long-standing dream died, but numbness washed over her instead.

"Thank you, Doctor Schwartz." David was using his this-is-the-end-of-our-discussion voice, and Sarah knew it was for her benefit. He could be an arrogant jerk when he was in the mood, but he was always protective of her.

Sarah noted the doctor's departure with little interest. Nothing mattered anymore, did it?

"Do you want me to stay?" David asked. His eyes were despondent, and she placed her hand against his cheek.

_Don't be sad, David_, she wanted to say. _It doesn't matter. Nothing matters_. "No." Why was her voice so quiet?

He searched her face, as if he didn't quite trust her. "I'll get the car then," he replied a moment later.

She nodded. After he left, she dressed; each movement was mechanical. Her blouse had thirteen buttons. What an odd number. She looked in the mirror to straighten her hair. Hollow green eyes stared back at her. Hadn't they been more alive before? No, a voice said in her mind. This was right, this nothingness.

As she walked through the waiting room, she saw women in various stages of pregnancy. There were so many of them, sitting in the cushy chairs, flipping through magazines. Sarah couldn't breathe, she was suffocated by the image of what she would never have. Where was the exit? She had to get out of there.

The glass doors ahead of her were shining like a beacon, reflecting the sunlight outside. She almost dashed for the exit and stumbled just before reaching blessed freedom. Someone caught her before she hit the floor. She felt a hand pressed against her stomach; heat radiated from the touch, and her skin prickled with goosebumps.

"You'll be fine, Sarah," her mysterious rescuer said. The baritone voice, the way he said her name sounded familiar, like she should know him.

"Who—" she started to ask, but when she turned there was no one there. She looked around the waiting room for a moment before pushing the door open and jogging to David's waiting car.

It was after dinner, while she was doing dishes, when Sarah's legs buckled beneath her and she crumpled to the floor. Her body shook with the tears she hadn't been able to shed at the doctor's office. This was when reality took her, opened her eyes and forced her to watch the end of her hopes. She was never going to bring new life into the world. She would never experience morning sickness, or feel a growing baby kick in her womb. She was never going to have an ultrasound to watch the flutter of a tiny heart. She would never experience the agony of childbirth or hear the squalling cry of a little one taking a first breath. She would never look down at a bundle in her arms and see her husband's nose or her eyes blinking back at her.

She felt David's arms wrap around her, his hand stroking her hair. He whispered something to her, but she couldn't hear his words over her wails. She was shattered. She was broken beyond repair, and she didn't want someone to tell her that she would be whole again someday.

"No!" she yelled, pushing David away. "Don't touch me! _Don't touch me!_"

"Sarah," he said, reaching for her.

She knocked his hands away. "Just go!" She was screaming now, but she didn't care. She stood up and pointed to the door. "Go and find a woman who can give you a child! I'm worthless to you!"

There was a brief flash of hurt on David's face before his expression became angry. He stood and grabbed her shoulders, giving her a shake. "Stop it, Sarah! Stop it!" He shook her again. "Do you think I'm going to leave you just because we can't have children?" The hurt was back in his eyes. "Is your opinion of me so low? I love you. Dammit, I love _you_—not some child we don't even have yet!"

Sarah cried out and collapsed against her husband.

"Oh Sarah," he whispered against her hair. "We'll get through this somehow. We can adopt, or we can be content with just having each other. It doesn't matter. We don't have to figure it out right now." He kissed the top of her head.

"Okay, okay," she murmured through her tears. She let him lead her to the bedroom where they held each other in silence.

Three months later, after spending a week with the worst bout of stomach flu she'd ever had and unexplained cramping, Sarah was again sitting on the exam table. She was alone this time. She couldn't bring herself to worry David with the possibility of more bad news.

There was a soft knock at the door, and Doctor Schwartz popped his head in. "Hello, Mrs. Jones."

Sarah gave him a wan smile. "Well, what's the verdict?" She squeezed her hands together to keep them from shaking.

The doctor didn't answer right away, but sat on the stool across from her and opened her chart. He studied it for a moment before looking up at her.

"When was your last menstrual cycle?"

Sarah blinked at him. What? "Well, things haven't been regular for years. And after last time I was here…" Her words trailed off as she swallowed the knot in her throat. "I stopped keeping track."

"Can you guess?"

Sarah shook her head. She'd had only enough energy to get through each day without turning into a blubbering mess. She couldn't care less about her womanly cycles now.

"Mrs. Jones, I'd like to have the tech do a transvaginal ultrasound with your permission."

Anxiety clenched her ribcage. "Is it bad?"

Doctor Schwartz's expression was gentle. "I don't think so, but we need confirmation."

It seemed like what happened in the next few minutes was a blur. Sarah remembered walking down the hall to the ultrasound room and changing into a gown. As she lay back on the table, she couldn't stay the tears that were leaking out of the corner of her eyes. Her legs trembled as she followed the tech's instructions. Sarah wished she had asked David to come along after all.

"Just relax, Mrs. Jones," the tech said in a kind voice. "There will be a little discomfort, but it'll be over soon."

Sarah didn't reply. She was terrified of what the tech might find. Would it be cancer?

After what seemed like an eternity, the tech looked down at her and said, "I'll be right back."

Sarah draped her arm over her eyes and took deep breaths. She knew it had to be bad. She didn't lift her head when she heard the doctor's voice just outside of the room.

"Two?" he asked as he walked in. He sounded stunned.

"Yes, both viable." Sarah heard the rustling of paper.

"Hm." Doctor Schwartz was silent for a moment. "Mrs. Jones, would it be all right if Susan examined you again?"

Sarah nodded under her arm. What difference would it make? She felt her resolve clicking into place. Whatever it was, Sarah was determined to face it head on, and the more information her doctor had the better.

The silence was broken by a rapid "_pow-pow-pow-pow_" sound. And it seemed to have an echo. Sarah frowned. Was her heart beating that fast?

"Looks like they're about ten weeks along," Doctor Schwartz said.

"Mm-mm," replied the tech (Susan?). "And did you notice—"

"Impossible."

Sarah couldn't stand the cryptic talk anymore. "What? What is it?" She twisted her head to look at the two of them. Their eyes were glued to the monitor. "Doctor, what do you see?"

He turned to her and smiled, though not quickly enough to hide the disbelief that was written in his eyes. Susan pulled the monitor closer to Sarah so she could see the screen.

"Do you see this?" Doctor Schwartz asked. He pointed to a dark circle on the screen. In the center was a blob. "This is your baby."

"Wha—what?" Sarah thought she might have entered some alternate reality in that moment. Did he say _baby_? She looked closer at the screen and saw that the blob had stubs where arms and legs were developing. And in the center was a tiny, pulsing orb—the heart. Sarah brought her hands to her mouth.

"That's not all."

Sarah turned to the doctor. "There's more?"

He nodded and pointed to another dark circle on the monitor that she hadn't noticed before.

"Twins?" She said the word with reverence. She was having two babies? She was having two babies! Sarah laughed with delight, until she remembered her medical condition. Oh no… "But is it dangerous with my…" Tears welled up in her eyes.

Doctor Schwartz shook his head. "I can't explain it, Mrs. Jones, but you don't have any lesions. I can only guess that your body had a delayed reaction to the hormone therapy. From what I can see, your uterine lining appears to be healthy, and the babies are thriving."

Sarah covered her face and cried happy, exultant tears. A miracle had happened. Some power in the universe had decided her dream was worthy, and had given it to her. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," she whispered to whoever or whatever it was. She had already forgotten her strange encounter in the waiting room with the mysterious man three months before.

That night, David had wept with her when she told him the news.

* * *

**2018**

* * *

Sarah smiled as she watched her twelve year old daughter, Elizabeth, hold the tiny baby in her arms. They were spending the holidays with Toby and his family, including the new addition—a little baby boy. Sarah glanced at her brother and tousled his hair.

"Hey," he said in mock anger. "I'm not a kid anymore."

Sarah laughed. "You'll always be my baby brother, Toby."

"And you'll always be my old sister," he replied with a wink.

She punched him in the arm. "Old_er_, Tobes, older. There's a difference."

He raised a brow. "Really? Because I can't tell."

The baby interrupted Sarah's retort with a gurgle. Everyone cooed back at him in an instant, and Elizabeth beamed.

"Look at us," Toby said with a grin. "Grown-ups babbling like babies."

Sarah shrugged. "It's what they do to us." She turned her attention to the blue bundle. Had Elizabeth and Davie been that small? It seemed like so long ago.

"What did you name him again?"

"Jareth."

Sarah turned back to Toby. Something niggled in her mind, as if she had heard the name before and not in relation to Toby's new son. It was like some distant memory that tugged at her, one that she couldn't quite grasp. She shook her head. "It's an unusual name. How did you come up with it?"

Toby frowned. "I don't know. I'm not sure where I heard it before, sometime when I was a kid. I've always liked the name, and it only took a lot of begging and offering favors to convince Jessie to go along with it," he finished with a chuckle.

Davie came bounding into the room and stumbled to a halt in front of them. He glanced over his shoulder and tried to appear casual. "So, Mom," he said, "when's Dad gonna get here?"

"Well, you know how book signings go. I'm sure he'll call when he's on his way."

Giggles emanated from the hall and grew closer. Davie looked over his shoulder again. "Okay. Gotta go!" He ran out of the room in the opposite direction of the giggles.

A few seconds later, Toby's two daughters skipped in and looked around, and left again, hot on Davie's heels, their long blond hair streaming behind them. Little Karen and little Sarah were six and three years old. Sarah had always been honored that one of her nieces had been named after her. Well, named after Jessie's mother too, but Sarah was flattered all the same.

"He's so good with the girls," Toby said. "I swear he's their favorite toy."

Sarah gave Toby a grin. She was rather proud of her children. Even after twelve years, and the onslaught of pubescent hormones, they were still her miracles.

Her purse started crooning, "_I knew I loved you before I met you. I think I dreamed you into life…_" Sarah dug out her cell phone. "Speak of the devil."

"Hey babe," David said when she answered. "So, I have a confession to make."

"Yes?" Sarah raised an eyebrow.

"I got a bit lost."

Sarah threw back her head and laughed. It was just so…David! Her husband was smart, arrogant, stubborn, funny and doting, but he was not good with directions.

"I'm glad you find this so amusing," he groused, but Sarah knew he wasn't truly angry.

"Where are you?"

"I overshot the exit, and I've turned around. Can you remind me once more what the exit number is?"

"267. Euclid Avenue."

"267. Got it. Oh, I think I see—" His sentence was cut off, and Sarah wondered if he had hit a bad reception area. "What the hell!?" he exclaimed. Sarah heard tires squealing and then the sickening crunch of metal on metal.

She shrieked and dropped the phone.

How she had gotten to the hospital, she didn't know. She didn't remember anything but the sound of a high speed collision playing over and over again in her mind. She wanted to put her hands over her ears and scream until the noise went away.

_Not David, not my David_, she begged whatever power that had helped her in the past. _Please, not David. I can't do this alone!_

She felt a hand on her elbow, guiding her, and she realized it was her brother. Toby's face was grim, and she suddenly wanted him to tell her that everything was going to be all right, that she hadn't just become a single mom to two pre-teens. He didn't return her gaze as he led her to the nurse's station.

The two men behind the desk seemed so calm. How could they be calm when her life was on the verge of being over? She felt the irrational urge to smack both of them.

"David Jones," Toby said. "We're here for David Jones."

One of the men looked up with a furrowed brow. "I'm sorry but—"

"David Jones!" Sarah yelled. "He is my husband! _Where is my husband!?_"

Toby gripped her shoulders and pulled her away from the desk. "Let me handle this, sis."

"Mrs. Jones?"

Sarah turned toward the voice. A woman in a white coat stood in the hall, holding a clipboard.

"Yes?" Sarah stepped forward despite the terror that was peaking inside of her. "Is he…is he…" She couldn't say the words.

The woman smiled. "He's going to be okay."

Sarah's legs gave out, and Toby caught her just before she hit the floor. "But I…I heard it…" she gasped. "I heard the accident."

The woman nodded. "That must have been horrible. I can't even imagine." She beckoned Sarah and Toby to follow her. "Fortunately, your husband wasn't wearing a seatbelt. This was one of those very rare times when being thrown from the vehicle was safer than being belted in—even with airbags."

Sarah stopped and shook her head. "No, that's not right. David is obsessive about seatbelts."

The other woman nodded. "I'm sure he is." Her tone was a patronizing. "That said, though, the paramedics found him on the side of the road, a little bumped and bruised but with no serious injuries."

She opened a door on her right. "We're keeping him overnight for observation. He's a little delirious. The CT scan showed no injury to the brain, but we'd rather err on the side of caution."

As Sarah stepped across the threshold, the woman stopped her with a hand on her arm. "He was really lucky, Mrs. Jones. You two have someone up there looking out for you."

Sarah nodded, but her gut told her that, though she was beginning to believe that someone or something was looking out for them, "up there" wasn't right. That didn't make sense, of course, and Sarah shook the errant thought from her head. "Thank you."

Toby hung back when Sarah entered the dim room, and she was grateful. Even with the doctor's good news, she still didn't know what condition she would find David in. She saw him lying on the bed, his head turned toward the large picture windows on the far side of the room.

"David?" she asked in a tentative voice.

He turned and smiled at her. Relief flooded through her, and it took all her strength not to leap on him and pepper his face with kisses. _He's okay! He's okay!_ The din of the car crash finally receded from her mind.

He moved to the side and patted the bed. Sarah was more than happy to oblige him. As soon as she sat, he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her in a tight embrace. They stayed like that for several minutes, hugging and crying. She had almost lost this—his touch, his scent, the feel of his heartbeat against her cheek. Oh, how much she took for granted! Never again, she vowed.

She pulled back, just enough to see his face. He was whole other than a few shallow scratches. "I thought I lost you," she said.

He sighed. "I thought I lost me too." He kissed her cheek.

"Do you remember what happened?" As soon as the question left her lips, Sarah wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.

David laid back and pulled her down with him, and her head rested on his chest. "I remember talking to you when suddenly there were a pair headlights bearing down on me. What happened next is a bit fuzzy." He paused. "It's going to sound crazy, but there was someone else there."

Sarah sat up and frowned. "The other driver?"

He shook his head. "No, they told me he…he didn't make it. He was drunk, I believe." He took a deep breath and continued, "This other fellow… I don't know. He was almost like an angel—an angry angel."

Her brows furrowed. "Angry angel? I thought they were supposed to be peaceful, harp-playing beings."

David snorted. "So did I. There's really no other way to describe him, though. He had untamed white-blond hair, and wore light colored clothes. I think there might have been feathers on his cape…or maybe he had wings. I'm not sure."

Sarah's skin pebbled with gooseflesh. "What did he do? Why was he angry?"

"I think… I think he pulled me from the car just before the collision. I know I was flung into the air, but I was certain I felt his hands on me." David shivered. "I believe I blacked out for a bit. When I woke up I was resting against a tree, and he was standing over me, ranting."

"What did he say?" Sarah felt the hair on her arms stand on end.

"I couldn't make out most of it. I was in and out of consciousness. But I do recall him saying something akin to 'The things I do to keep her happy.'" David shook his head. "Just before he vanished, he turned to me and said, 'You owe your life to her. Don't be ungrateful.' He never told me who 'her' is."

Sarah's stomach did a flip-flop. Somehow she knew that _she_ was the "her" that this strange being referred to. Pushing away the unsettling thought, Sarah replied, "He vanished?"

"He straightened and disappeared, just like that." David snapped his fingers.

Sarah rested her head against his chest. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Me too."

The next morning, David wasn't able to remember a single moment from the accident. Sarah was inclined to believe the "angry angel" had been a figment of his delirious mind, until David pulled off his hospital gown, and she saw the bruises under his arms.

They were shaped like hands.

As David dressed, Sarah wandered over to the window. "Thank you," she whispered to her husband's rescuer. "Thank you, whoever you are."

Her eyes were drawn to a white owl perched in a tree near the window. It tilted its head, and Sarah brought her hand up to rest against the glass, as if she might touch the bird. She heard her own voice in her mind, young and desperate.

_You're him, aren't you?_

The spell was broken when David's arm snaked around her waist. "I am ready to leave this dreadful place." He kissed the top of her head. "Let's blow this joint, doll!" His attempt at an American accent was awful.

Sarah laughed and leaned against him, enjoying the way his body molded to hers. She glanced out the window once more to search for the owl, but the tree was empty.

* * *

**2056**

* * *

Sarah was tired. A fatigue was sapping the strength she had left in her fragile limbs. She wanted to sleep, perhaps forever, but the incessant machine kept hissing, pumping air into her weakened lungs. Her body was failing her, and she was at peace with letting her soul drift away to another plane of existence—if there was one.

She'd had a good life, rich and full. She had lived her dreams, had a successful art career, a happy marriage and brought up two beautiful children. She'd been able to watch her grandchildren grow up, and had even held her great-grandchildren in her arms. Sarah had been truly blessed, even if her journey hadn't always been a bed of roses, and she never forgot to thank her "angry angel" for saving her from real tragedy. Every close call, she offered her gratitude, not caring if the strange being had been behind the rescue or not.

Yes, her life had been good, but Sarah was tired now. She was ready to embrace eternal rest. She had outlived her husband by ten years. She had even outlived Toby, and though she loved her posterity, they weren't enough anymore to keep her here.

Her family knew the end was coming. She had been visited by them all, and she knew they huddled in the waiting room, anxious to get their last goodbyes in before she left them forever. Her eyes became wet with the thought. Oh, how she hoped they would celebrate her, rather than mourn her loss. She was content, and she wanted them to be too.

She heard the door open, and turned her head to see who had come to her in the middle of the night. The effort exhausted her, but she refused to close her eyes. It was a doctor from the look of the white lab coat, and not one that she recognized. That was unsurprising, however, since she had chosen to make a training hospital her hospice.

He stepped closer and, in the dim light of the various machines keeping her alive, she saw that he had hair so fair that it was almost white. It was unkempt, sticking out at odd angles. Whether this was the latest fashion, Sarah didn't know. She had long since stopped keeping track of those trends.

He looked down at her, and she thought the light was playing a trick on her. His eyes were strange, mismatched, and piercing. She knew these eyes, but she didn't know how. He stretched out a hand and placed it over hers. She felt not skin in the contact, but a glove. A glove? She frowned. Why should that be odd? All doctors wore gloves to prevent the spread of disease. She concentrated, trying to discover what it was that confused her. He rubbed her fingers, and she realized that the gloves didn't feel like latex, but like supple leather.

She studied his face, and he smiled back at her—no, not a smile exactly, it was more like a smirk.

"Had enough with playing at mortality yet, precious thing?" His voice…

His voice… _Precious thing_.

_I'll be there for you. When the world falls down_.

Her eyes widened as a long forgotten memory flooded her. She relived it all at once, the fear when she wished Toby away, the way the Goblin King's eyes made her want to draw closer to him and run away at the same time, the harrowing ordeal of the Labyrinth, and the choice… The choice between Toby and eternity with the magical being who stood over her now.

Sarah pulled the oxygen mask from her face, and felt her lungs tighten painfully. "You." Her voice was a hoarse whisper.

He cocked his head, still smirking. "Me."

She struggled to get enough air to speak. "It wasn't…a dream."

"Of course it wasn't," he said. "Not even you could have enough imagination to conjure up someone as magnificent as myself."

Her face twisted in a sardonic expression. "Still…the arrogant…ass…I see."

He laughed. "And you are still as spirited as ever—even in your frail state."

Her hand shook as she replaced the mask over her mouth. She took several breaths before removing it again. "What…do…you…want…Jareth?"

He bared his pointed teeth in wide grin. "Ah, I do so love the sound of my name on your lips, raspy though it is. Much more pleasant than 'angry angel,' wouldn't you agree?"

Sarah meant to make a retort but fell into a coughing fit instead. She shoved the oxygen mask onto her face and tried to let the air fill her again.

"This won't do at all." Jareth frowned. "How can we have a conversation when you cannot draw enough air to speak?"

She supposed it was meant to be a rhetorical question, as he tugged her mask off and placed his lips over hers. It wasn't a kiss—that part of Sarah had been many years dormant, and she was content to leave it so. Jareth was blowing air into her lungs, the breath seeped away the weakness and replaced it with strength.

When he straightened, she said, "I thought you had no power over me." Her voice was stronger now, but still aged.

He waved his hand. "I don't. I can't magic you away to my kingdom where you belong. This was a simple spell that cannot compel you to my will. The effect is temporary." He flicked his wrist and the chair beside the bed moved closer. He sprawled across it, and Sarah noticed that the doctor's coat was now gone, replaced by the garish clothing she remembered him wearing from her teenage years. "Now, shall we get down to business, Sarah?"

"What business do we have, Jareth?" She sighed, enjoying the feel of being able to breathe deeply.

A crystal ball formed in his hand, and he held it toward her. "I've brought you a gift."

Sarah raised a brow. "This sounds disturbingly familiar."

"Oh, does it?" He grinned. Did he ever smile without looking so feral, she wondered. "I'm pleased that your memory hasn't failed you."

"Are you going to throw a snake at me again?"

Jareth lifted his chin and guffawed. "Oh you _do_ remember it all, don't you, dear Sarah? How delightful." He danced the crystal across his hands. "No, there will be no snake throwing," he said in a somber voice.

"No goblins, no crying babe hidden in my castle, and no Labyrinth." He shrugged. "Tonight's conversation is for you and me, alone. I've come to offer you your dreams again."

Sarah shook her head, the movement, she was sure, was nearly imperceptible. "I've had my dreams, Jareth. And I'm…" She struggled to say the words, now that she remembered who he was. "I'm grateful that you helped with that." _For saving me from a truly evil man, for putting David in my life, for giving me children, for saving my husband, and countless other instances._ She didn't list them out loud, but she knew he was aware of all the ways he had helped her.

"I wouldn't do that, Sarah."

She frowned. "Do what?"

His smirk was back. "I wouldn't attribute altruism to my motives, precious." The ball stopped moving over his hands. "I am the same Goblin King who forced you to run my Labyrinth, the same who tried everything in his power to stop you from succeeding. If given the chance to repeat the experience, I would do it all again, with the goal of changing the final outcome."

Sarah felt unsettled by his words. "The villain," she whispered. "Then why?"

Jareth snorted. "Villain, am I still?" He was somehow closer to her, though he hadn't moved from the chair. "I should think that Travis Winters more adequately fills that role."

Sarah shuddered at the name. Yes, as bad as Jareth had been, he had never truly harmed her. "You still haven't answered my question."

"You want to know why? Why I gave you the life you thought you wanted, when I am such a wicked being?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. He was so damn dramatic. _Not unlike you were once_, a voice murmured in her mind. She shoved the thought away. "Yes, I want to know why."

"Very well, then." He studied the crystal in his hand for a moment. "I did it because I am exceedingly selfish, and I can be quite single-minded when I want something." He held the crystal toward her. "Don't you want to see your dreams, Sarah?"

She brought her quaking hand up to ward him off. "No, Jareth. I would only be looking at memories. I've had everything I could ever want."

"Not so. You've had the dreams you believed you were supposed to have. I won't deny that they gave you a certain amount of contentment, but those were not the true dreams of your heart." He held the ball closer to her. "Look, Sarah. See what I offer you."

She squeezed her eyes shut, propelled by her old defiance. After a moment, though, she realized that this wasn't the same game she played when she was a girl. She was dying. What harm could come from peering into a crystal? She opened her eyes and gazed into the orb.

She gasped when she found herself standing in a ballroom, wearing a magnificent dress of spun silver. It was different than the one she had worn in her drug-induced dream before, less girlish, more sophisticated. She was different as well, neither the girl nor the old woman. She couldn't guess her age as she looked into a nearby mirror, and her reflection seemed to have an ethereal glow. Jareth stepped up behind her, equally resplendent in his bejeweled, cobalt blue waist coat.

He swept her hair away from her shoulder, and planted a soft kiss on her bare skin, making her shiver. "As much as I could stay here, enraptured by our beauty," he said, "I believe we owe our guests a dance."

Sarah laughed and turned to face him. He held her against him as they danced, so unlike the chaste distance he had kept between them when she was fifteen. He sang to her with a voice that seemed to caress her very soul, and her heart nearly burst with the love she had for him.

It was a different love than what she had felt for her mortal husband. With David, it had been a quiet love, deep and slow like the gentle tides of the ocean—secure and beautiful in its simplicity. Their love had grounded her, given her peace. Her love for Jareth, on the other hand, was wildfire. She thought it might devour her, burn her to ashes, but it never did. The passion between them made her feel so vibrant, as if she had never seen color before she loved Jareth.

"Don't look now, precious, but I think our guests are ridiculously jealous of us," Jareth murmured against her ear before nipping the tip.

She laughed again, the sound echoed off the clear walls of the crystal ballroom.

The rest of her vision came in rapid succession, and Sarah was overwhelmed by the experiences. She was sitting on the windowsill in a tall tower, leaning against Jareth as he taught her how to conjure a crystal ball, giggling with delight when she had her first success. They were standing in his study, yelling at each other over how to deal with a wayward goblin. She threw things at him, which he easily deflected with a wave of his hand. When the screaming reached its apex, he crushed his lips over hers and she melted into him. They were in a four-poster bed now, her over him with her back arched in pleasure while his warm, slender, un-gloved hands clutched her hips.

She was on a turret overlooking the Labyrinth, blowing crystal balls into the air and watching them float away with pleasure. She loved the new game that she and Jareth played now with the runners. She would send them help while Jareth tried to anticipate her moves and thwart them. He materialized behind her, whispering that her attempts would prove futile even has he caressed her swollen belly.

She was sitting in a garden, holding a baby girl with blond hair and green eyes in her arms as she watched her young, dark-haired son chase the chickens with the goblins. Jareth appeared in the midst of the chaos, and scooped the boy up, holding him by his ankles. Jareth threatened to dip him headfirst in the Bog of Eternal Stench if he didn't stop tormenting the poor fowl. Jareth winked at Sarah before he swung her son high in the air, and caught him. The air was filled with laughter.

The last scene was in the bedroom again. Sarah lay on her back, sweat-soaked and spent from their latest dalliance. Jareth hovered over her, his beautiful face bathed in the soft light of the candles around the room. He kissed her with such tenderness that it made her heart want to burst.

"Forever, Sarah," he whispered against her mouth. "It's only forever."

She ran her fingers through his wild and silky hair. "Not long at all."

It was the affirmation they said to each other every night. The commitment they made to each other every day, no matter how their arguments could quake the whole of the Underground in their intensity, no matter how his arrogance grated on her, or how her defiance angered him. Their love could not be shaken by such petty things.

Had she ever truly known love before Jareth?

Sarah felt her limbs become frail and heavy, and she knew she had been returned to reality. Tears coursed down the side of her weathered face.

"What no one knew, Sarah," Jareth said with uncharacteristic softness, "is that the girl had fallen in love with the Goblin King." He ran his gloved finger across her wrinkled cheek. "I made a mistake when I offered you this the first time. You were too young to understand."

Sarah shook her head. "Toby."

"Of course, the baby. He was an obstacle that I could not surmount." He smiled. "But he is not here now."

Sarah felt a small pang at Jareth's words. It had been hard to outlive her baby brother. She closed her eyes, and stifled the grief that threatened to overtake her. "Why did you wait so long?"

"In the eye of eternity, seventy mortal years is nothing. The wait, though painful, wasn't long." He paused. "But that is not what you meant, is it?"

She could feel him draw even closer to her; the heat of his body warmed her skin.

"Would you believe, Sarah," he said, "that my reasons for waiting were selfish as well?"

Sarah opened her eyes and found his face close to hers. "What reasons?"

He smirked. "I could have enticed you with your dreams long ago, before marriage and children. Perhaps even before Travis Winters thought to make you a victim." Jareth nearly spat the last sentence. "But I didn't want to find you morose on a balcony, wondering what your mortal life would have been like. I didn't want to share you with flimsy imaginings of the Aboveground. I'm a possessive being, Sarah. When I take you, I want _all_ of you." His words made her shiver. "So I let you experience mortality in its fullest."

"But you interfered." Her voice was quiet. It was becoming difficult to breathe again.

"True," he replied, "but I didn't want you to have regrets. Imagine if I had stood aside and let your life take its natural course. Would you have been able to lie there, drawing your last breaths with the same peace you feel now?"

"How? You have….no power…over me." Her chest hurt, and the fatigue called to her.

Jareth's brow furrowed in concern. "So many questions as time slips through our fingers, Sarah. My powers are bound. I cannot reorder time!" he snapped. "This is the last I will answer then you must make your choice before it's too late." Taking a deep breath, he went on. "I said before, I can do nothing to compel you against your will. I can, however, manipulate circumstances surrounding you, as long as my purpose is not to force you to my designs. And I have the power to heal you—again, as long as I require nothing from you."

He brought the crystal to her face. "Now choose, Sarah. Choose between eternal death and eternal life."

Sarah blinked slowly. "Your…price?"

"I ask for so little, precious. Just your heart." His trademark smirk was back, but his eyes… His eyes reflected something else. Pain? Fear? Sarah didn't know.

Her heart. That was all that he wanted, her love and her devotion forever. Sarah blinked again, her vision was becoming dark.

"Please, Sarah. You hold _my_ dreams in your hands." Jareth's pleading voice sounded as if it was coming from a great distance. "Please don't doom me to an eternity without you."

Just her heart. _What no one knew was that the girl had fallen in love with the Goblin King._ Hadn't she given him her heart already?

Sarah fought against the blackness that called to her. Using every ounce of strength in her reserves, she lifted her arm and placed her hand on the smooth surface of the crystal.

Everything turned white.

* * *

Sarah stood on the same hilltop overlooking the Labyrinth where she had started her journey as a young mortal girl. She spun in place, throwing her arms out as she reveled in the feeling of youth and vigor. Her body was now impervious to age and ailments and she didn't feel guilty for accepting such a generous gift. She had done her time in mortality, suffered through illnesses, accepted when time had stolen her energy and beauty. She had born the tribulations without complaint. Didn't she deserve to delight in her new existence?

In the midst of her twirling and laughter, she was captured by a pair of warm arms. Breathless, she looked up at Jareth, and the naked desire she saw in his eyes made her heart flutter.

"Immortality suits you, precious," he said.

Before she could utter a word, his mouth was over hers. His kiss was hungry, like a man who had spent years living on the crust of bread and was now offered a never-ending feast. She parted her lips, and he accepted the offering with a growl, pressing the full-length of his body against her. Sarah felt her knees wobble in response.

He chuckled, breaking off their intense lip-lock. "You see, Sarah?" He rested his forehead against hers. "I always get what I want in the end."

She flashed him her most brilliant smile. "Me too, Jareth."

She didn't wait for him to respond as she grabbed his hand and ran toward the Labyrinth—toward home. They only made it a few steps before he magicked them into his bedchamber. She laughed, her mirth bouncing off the stone walls. Jareth gave her a genuine smile, one devoid of leers or smirks, and Sarah felt her breath catch. The crystal had showed her his love, but it had failed to reveal how beautiful it would be.

Later, he held her, tracing lazy patterns on her arm. "Forever, Sarah," he murmured against her ear. "It's only forever."

She let out a contented sigh. "Not long at all, Jareth."

**~FIN~**

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you so much for reading! If you have a moment, I'd love to hear your thoughts! My favorite part of fandom is interacting with fellow, well, fans! XD


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